


The Impostor Apotheosis

by discursi



Series: The Continent Series [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Boyband, Celebrities, Depression, Drama, Fantasy, Gen, Monotheism, Occult, Religion, Sacrifice, Supernatural - Freeform, The Continent Series, Wakes & Funerals, drug, idol, sinister - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 14:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discursi/pseuds/discursi
Summary: Viktor Gi is an idol in training. Just after his 16th birthday and with difficulties at ‘the company-owned dormitories’, Viktor starts going missing. Yuna Song discovers the boy shivering on the porch of her gate. She takes him home, shelters him for over five months. She becomes increasingly entangled in Victor’s life. Until one day, he disappears.Years later, the new raising idol, Viktor and Yuna meet again. This time Viktor confides her that fame goes hand in hand with horrendous personal sacrifices and a fatal betrayal.





	The Impostor Apotheosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The terror began when my grandma answered the doorbell of our little house. The guests were two agents and a Leban informer. The Leban was not from here. This is a small village. I knew everyone lives in this surrounding prefecture.

**Yuna Song**

The terror began when my grandma answered the doorbell of our little house. The guests were two agents and a Leban informer. The Leban was not from here. This is a small village. I knew everyone lives in this surrounding prefecture. Viktor has vanished -- perhaps hiding behind the wooden cabinet. Grandma described them to me as good looking, courteous, well-educated men --- because I apparently they were all fluent in the formal traditional language, and they talked with heavy the city accents, which sounded weird for my grandma's ears. She also mentioned the expensive watches they wore and polished leather shoes matched with it.

Grandma put a piece of beef meat onto Viktor's plate before she looked at me, and with doubtful tone said, "they oozed dangerous vibe, though."

She vaguely repeated the sentence 'missing boy' and that was what they were after. Grandma swore she didn't give them the information they wanted. She told them that she forgot or had no idea what they were asking about. I was so sure it was not acting, nor lying because of grandma often unable to remember that Viktor lived with us for quite a while now. Grandma even often erred him as my father.

I turned to Viktor who was busily eating in front of me. My glance demanded some sort of explanation. But he didn't budge. He ignored all my advances to communicate. Eventually, I took a pity onto him. He was all nervous and all I could hear from him were exasperated breaths. I decided to ask him tomorrow, I didn't want him to lose sleep over this.

We finished dinner in prolonged silence.

I woke up with a loud headache brimming on the side of my skull. I went to work and tried to put my best smile on. The day didn’t turn to be better. Everything seemed like a long drag. On the evening, Viktor was still agitated. I observed how he liked to gnaw his lower lips as he was cleaning fresh vegetable and put them on a white plastic bowl. All I could hear was the voice of running water, I looked out the window and it was raining.

I let out a desperate sigh and I thought I had enough of all these. And Viktor was a smart boy, he knew ultimately I was bound to ask,

 “why you’ve been acting so strange since those three men came?”

Chip on his shoulder was a mile wide, he shrugged. His eyes were on the spinach and cucumbers. He reached the cutting board and mentally measured the size of cutting he was about to do. Then, he responded softly, “Isn’t it natural for me to be scared?”

It took me a certain amount of sangfroid to smile at him and said, “why is that?”

Water dropped one by one created incredulous melody. I could also hear the circuit in his brain was trying to find the right words to make me understand. Or he was considering if it was wise to confide me in his story.

“Those men were linked to the Red Army Liberation Front, the Armed Rabbai Mafia and the West Maheger Bider gang.” He said, sucking a sudden breath.

 I stared at him blankly before I turned and continue to wash the cucumber.

Then I chuckled, __‘__ _ _Why would dangerous syndicates come to us? This boy has a very wild imagination.__ _ _’__

Viktor flinched, his face went utterly blank and he said nothing for far too long. It made me horrified with myself. Maybe I was too quick to judge. What if what he said was the truth.

I waited it out because it’s probably the best if I restrained my self to react from here and out.

“Could you help me fermented the radish, please?” Victor gritted his teeth, eyes flickering.

"No.," he said coldly, "Will you excuse me? I am tired."

Immediately, I regretted that I made him upset. I watched him walking away to his room. I exhaled, _ _it had been a long day, indeed.__ Viktor may go to bed without dinner. And it was all because I couldn't control my laugh. I gripped the knife tightly. Sometimes, Viktor made everything difficult on purpose. Sometimes it felt like it would be a very good idea to hang Viktor upside down and shook him into senses.

At least, he didn’t throw tantrum like he usually would. So there, one thing I could thank tonight.

Two days drifted in lazily, they came again.

This time I opened the door. I made sure Viktor already scurried away before I beckoned them in. They were indeed polite. They took off their expensive shoes, sat on rice straw mat with a proper seating manner. However, their behavior was very disruptive nonetheless. The Leban said they've been traveled to Lares, to the Haue, to West Linrder. They said they were looking for a missing son of some rich family. The buzz-cut man added ' _ _We are not denying the report,'__  but then explained unnecessarily,

“There is no charge against him and he is wanted only for questioning and bringing him home in safety.”

__Report? they consider my grandma's obscure answer, a report? And what's with the charging? They want to file a lawsuit against the boy?_ _

I stood and braced my self in the kitchen door. The second man followed me, the pursuit was cautious, with violent intent. I glanced at the knife we used to cut the vegetables, wondering if I could pierce one of them with that before they attacked me. But the knife was out of my reach. There was nothing I could grab, so I made a fist. If only I was strong enough fighting those men.

"You okay?" the second man asked, heavy city accent but now he used informal language, to be more familiar with me, I reckoned. He sensed a whirlpool of fright I felt. Maybe he wanted me to be at ease.

But I couldn't.

Then another form of panic spread through me when he held my hand. Cold, distant.

The man said, “you look pale," he shooed me away and gestured, "Please, sit with them. I'll make four of our cups of tea."

I let then danced around our kitchen. I walked back to my guests. Hoping, there would be no bloodshed.

I stood up and grinned. I didn't know what to say.

It took me all the courage left in me to finally sit in front of them like.

“Miss...” The Leban said. It startled me a bit.

“Yes,” I continued, “we don’t get many Leban here. To what do we owe the pleasure?” I asked, pitching for casual tone and probably missing.

"As you may already know, we are looking for someone." He nodded, emotionless like he had been saying that phrase thousand times these past few days.

Seconds later the buzz-cut man took a small black suitcase he carried around. We stared at it. From behind, I heard the other man scrounging my kitchen cabinets looking for a tin of tea and sugar bowl. I surged my attention back to the black suitcase. He removed a confidential file inside and making his way past of the ebony table, spreading photos on the surface of the desk. He still maintained the good posture of seating while doing it.

Three photos and I didn't recognize the first one. However, I did know the rest.

"This was the boy when he was 12." he pointed, it came to my understanding after a moment that it was Viktor in the photo. The photo was kinda photo that was put on a job application. And the second photo was a neutral one, it was plain to see that the boy was forced to smile. The last one, he truly smiled but somehow different with Viktor I was used to. He was genuinely smiling.

"Who is this boy again?" I pretended.

"Our client only son. He is very cherished and loved. His family is really worried about him." the Leban said.

"I am sure they are. Why did he run away?" I asked, fondling the edge of the first photo, ruminating every detail of it.

"He had a colossal fight with his dad. He wanted to stop going to school and pursuing his singing career, the dad very much against it," he answered again, giving his creepiest smile.

"So he can sing?" I murmured. It was like a statement of acknowledgment. I didn't know Viktor could sing and if he was good or it or not.

"Yes, very talented, need to be polished a little. With intense training, he can be famous." The Leban nodded like he was very so sure of it.

It was utterly bizarre. He talked about Viktor like he was a thing, an object, an investment. I didn't like it. I grew very fond of the boy. I followed my hunch to lie.

“I am so sorry, I really cannot help." The words came out erecting what I considered to be a particularly miraculous façade of politeness. I began to suspect that the Leban and the buzz-cut man acknowledged it.

"Are you sure?" Leban’s question gave me a smoldering chill.

Buzz-cut pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and looked at his watch.

“seven minutes to fifty.” he reminded them. For a moment, I thought he was going to pull a gun at my face

"Your patient said days ago they saw a boy with similar characteristics sending you your lunch box, riding a bike." Leban read out his notebook flatly.

I shivered, __'are they going to kill me?'__

"Oh... They were mistaken. It was a delivery girl. I ordered a pack of Sashi meat. You can call and ask them." I smiled again, I moved to the side of the desk. My hand was shaking, I struggled to pull out a flyer of Sashino restaurant from the piled of the old newspaper right to my side.

The Leban snatched the flayer from my hand right away and examined it, eyes on the contact number on the flyer.

"And the patient,” I chuckled, “they are dying people. Dying people see what they want to see." I explained desperately. I hoped there was a chance they would be satisfied with my conspicuous answer.

The man from the kitchen came with cups of tea on the tray. I almost forgot him. My attention focused on the Leban and the buzz-cut man who was smoking now and letting the ashes of his cigarette poured down dirtying my rice straw mat.

'It will be hard to clean.' I grumbled at no one.

"What?" Leban was surprised. He expected me to cower on my corner and didn’t retaliate when they were being disrespectful like that. __This place is still my house.__

"That. Could you please put away your cigarette?" I demanded, for a moment, an ounce of assertiveness posed into me. I was taken aback too that I was brave enough to almost shout like that. Even The Leban appeared to think the same.

The buzz-cut man just snorted mockingly. He grabbed the cup his partner made. Drank it all up. And used the empty cut to put the ashes of his cigarette.

The politeness was gone then.

"You live with a man here? I saw man's clothes in the laundry basket. But according to your neighbor, you only live with your grandma. And the funeral workers go back to their houses after dawn."

"Those are my father's. Lately Nana, I mean my grandma has been missing my late dad. She likes to take all his stuff and reminisce the memory of his dead son." my eyes were pointing them to the shrine of memories on the corner of the room. Photographs of my father, a collection of his favorite objects, including some ironed shirt and pants.

 _ _Shit, that is the worst excuse ever.__ It rather made sense if I told them that those were my boyfriend's but I didn't have one, and they would certainly find out about that.

Viktor wore those. We could not afford to buy new clothes for him and he didn't mind wearing my father's. So it was a perfect arrangement. Luckily, I managed to buy him briefs and boxer with my last month income.

__Oh, no the briefs. They were new and teenager size. What if they find out I lied?_ _

The other guy nodded at them as a signal before he buzz-cut snapped, "Ten minutes." He stood and dropped his cigarette, crushed it under his foot as he opened the door.

"Thanks," he said to me the informal language. But his attitude was the opposite of what was called ‘formal’.

"Thanks for your time and tea." the other one said. I stared at their cups on the table, untouched except the one the buzz-cut drank.

The Leban collected the photos and put them back to the suitcase.

"Thank you very much." he offered his hand. I reached it and shook it. I gave him a weak smile.

Stood up, walked to the door and followed them outside.

I stood in the living room and stayed in that position for a couple of minutes. I stared at the cups, cigarette ashes. Their odor lingered. I was still shaking. Those cups, maybe laced with cyanide or something. I better threw them away.

For the next three days, they were hanging about the outside of my house. Every morning they trashed my garbage I saw them in their car. I shrugged they just wanted to make my life a bit difficult it seemed.

***


End file.
